


Second Contact

by endofunctor



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, Post-Sburb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-07
Updated: 2011-09-20
Packaged: 2017-10-22 07:51:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/235812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endofunctor/pseuds/endofunctor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's hard when your girlfriend is an alien in another universe that you have no way of contacting. It's hard and nobody understands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Transportation

tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

TT: Kanaya, I’ve been informed by my friends that none of you have contacted any of us in the past few hours.   
grimAuxiliatrix [GA] did not receive message from tentacleTherapist [TT]   
TT: And while we are all of course relieved to be back on Earth, I cannot help but worry.   
TT: For platonic reasons if nothing else, of course. It would be horrendously unfair of the game to restore Earth to its pristine condition and not do the same for Alternia and its no doubt glorious hellscapes.   
TT: Strider’s client lacks the continual inflow of angular smiley faces and numerals he’s been accustomed to receiving, and I can tell even through his veil of eight layers of ironic detachment it’s starting to affect him.   
TT: Perhaps you are busy, or perhaps this is some kind of prank performed for a reason I cannot understand.   
TT: Some kind of long-form revenge for the worry I caused you during my grimdark, shall we say, episode.   
TT: If such is the case, I will no doubt be immensely embarrassed once you sign on and receive all of these messages.   
TT: If it is not, then I suppose there will be more pressing matters on your mind when you receive them.

Rose closes the laptop and ventures downstairs. Her mother is absent from the dinner, a small mercy. But on the table is a Lunchable, singular, laid on fine china with a doily underneath. There’s a post-it attached to the plate with a note in the most exquisite lavender handwriting, each letter the very picture of D’Nealian script, apologizing for not being present. Attached to the post-it is another note, apologizing for the residue that it would leave on the china plate. And so as to not dirty the table with the grime of the adhesive, beneath that note is another doily.

The ostentatious display of affection snaps her back into her old routine, and as she carefully dissects an individual slice of bologna with her silver fork, she tries to ignore the creeping suspicion in the back of her head that that last ‘when’ should have been an ‘if’.

* * *

When she wakes, it’s not to the deafening roar that had threatened to shake her apart mere subjective moments ago, or the black and green fire of space itself burning. Instead, she’s surrounded by white and red and blue, and for a second she thinks she’s on Prospit once again. But Prospit doesn’t have her bookshelves, her sewing equipment, her half-made dresses strewn about the place. And when she rushes to the window, gripping the edge as she leans outside, she sees not the blue ocean of the Land of Rays and Frogs, but the familiar golden expanse of her desert oasis, and the Alternian sun hanging in the sky opposite the green and purple moons.

Her relief at her return to Alternia is interrupted, first by the soft chime of her Trollian client, and then the thought that the others might not be so lucky. She hurries to her lunchtop and sits down, ignoring the sin of dirtying her dress on the bare floor, and assures her friends that, yes, she is all right. As she runs down the list, she pauses. The name ‘tentacleTherapist’ hangs there in the air in front of her, the words a worrying shade of gray.

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling tentacleTherapist [TT]

GA: Rose   
tentacleTherapist [TT] did not receive message from grimAuxiliatrix [GA]   
GA: Rose Are You There   
GA: Rose I Cannot View You On Trollian And I Can Only Assume That This Is Because The Ending Of The Game Has In Some Way Severed Its Multidimensional Capabilities   
GA: Although I Hope That I Am Wrong And That You Are Simply Away From Your Client   
GA: Or Perhaps Your No Doubt Inferior Human Technology Has Decided To Fail At This Most Comical Opportunity As It Seems So Prone To Do   
GA: As Evidenced By The Comical Series Of Errors During Your Attempts To Bring John Into The Session During The Beginning Of The Game   
GA: Rose I Am Trying To Skewer You With My Wit But My Horseshitometer Cannot Be Filled Unless The Recipient Of My Scathing Verbal Assault Replies In Kind

And then she pauses and looks at the steadily increasing number of unread messages next to the dark gray ‘carcinoGeneticist’ in her trollslum, each increase accompanied with a soft chime.

GA: Forgive Me I Must Deal With Our Esteemed Leader Karkat Vantas   
GA: Who Appears To Be Pestering Me In A Very Much Leaderlike And Not At All Undignified Manner   
GA: I Await Your Reply

* * *

TT: It has been a month. Harley and Egbert are still holding on to some hope that you are simply unable to connect to Pesterchum, or busy being hailed as the heroes of the Alternian people, conveniently ignoring the fact that we have received no such welcome.   
TT: Strider and I are not so foolishly optimistic.   
TT: Our guardians seem to have retained their memories of the events, and though they never met you, they are willing to believe our stories. They are without a doubt the only ones that ever would.   
TT: I am told that Dave’s brother has even gone so far as to purchase a full-length pillow with a crudely painted likeness of Terezi on it for him, complete with JPEG artifacts.   
TT: I suspect he has done things to it that I shudder to even think about.   
TT: If this is, as Egbert believes, a prank war, then I must concede complete and utter defeat by your gray hand.   
TT: But if you are not receiving these messages, and I have spent the past month sending digital missives futilely into the aether, I would think it best for me to cease attempting to contact you.   
TT: Goodbye, Kanaya Maryam.   
TT: I will miss you.

* * *

The game had never intended for them to return to Alternia.

They were always meant for Earth, meant to conquer and rule as is the nature of the troll species. But contact with the humans had softened them, made some of them unwilling to accept a solution where the trolls would live on Earth as gods; they found a loophole in the game, managed to trick it into restarting the Alternian universe without the meteors that would destroy their home planet. But the initial conditions, the course of the troll empire, were not designed for long-term sustainability. They were designed to produce a race of game players.

One sweep after the end of the game, the Empress’s head is broadcast on the Alternian interplanetary network. Her body, however, is not. The troll holding her head, an orangeblood whose name is never even mentioned during the broadcast in lieu of his self-proclaimed title of Emperor Superior, sees fit to proclaim this the beginning of a New Alternian Order. However, such a revolutionary change could only be accomplished with the purging of all those undesirable remnants of the old. Specifically, the heir to the Imperial throne and any of those who might support her.

  
GA: Rose   
GA: If Youre Reading This Then I Must Apologize   
GA: Circumstances Beyond My Control Have Dictated That I Go Into Hiding   
GA: And As Much Of An Optimist As I Am I Cannot Risk Sending Messages To An Inactive Account Any Longer   
GA: I Do Not Know If I Will Get Another Chance To Speak To You Again   
GA: And I Believe That None Of My Messages Have Ever Reached You Nor Will They Ever Do So In The Future   
GA: But In The Extremely Unlikely Circumstance That Paradox Space Has Conspired To Deliver My Messages To You   
GA: Goodbye Rose Lalonde   
GA: I Will Miss You

* * *

TT: Do trolls have college?   
TT: From what I was able to divine of your culture, it seems within the realm of possibility.   
TT: Surely a species that is capable of interstellar conquest would possess some form of higher education, even if it is considerably more deadly than its Earth counterpart.   
TT: Perhaps on Alternia the killer exams truly live up to their name.   
TT: Regardless of the murderous proclivities of Alternian instructors, this means I will be leaving home soon.   
TT: And with it, one of the few people who I know believes me.   
TT: I still talk with the others, of course, but not nearly as much. Time erodes all things, even friendships forged in childhood and strengthened in green fire.   
TT: I am positive she knows I still send you messages. There is no way she could not; she is far too generous with her compliments about ‘moving on’ and how well-adjusted I am for having abandoned my desire to ever see you again.   
TT: I can only hope that if I find myself forced to live with a roommate, they will not pry, that I will be allowed to continue my quiet obsession in peace.

She picks up the purple scarf lying in her lap and runs her fingers over the fabric of each individual stitch. On each end is a green four-tentacled squid-like creature, the rightmost appendage bending back to curve over the others just so. She would no doubt find occasion to wear it in the cold Boston winters, but she dreads the conversation when the shape is inevitably recognized.  
She resolves to pretend her birthday lies in early September, because the alternative of hiding the garment away in some musty old closet while it decays is absolutely unthinkable.

* * *

twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

TA: kanaya.   
GA: What’s The Password   
TA: come on, iif any of u2 were goiing two get our account2 broken iinto by the iimperiial hackombatant2 iit wouldn’t be me.   
GA: Thats Not Quite What The Password Was   
GA: But Its Close Enough   
GA: So Why Are You Contacting Me   
GA: I Assume Its Something Important   
TA: aa found 2omethiing iin the ruiin2 by her old hiive.   
TA: 2he 2ay2 iit look2 liike the gate we were about two go through   
TA: before jack came and fucked u2 all up the bone bulge.

No. It’s impossible, it’s far too convenient, it’s the solution to both of her dilemmas at once; this has to be some kind of trap by the Emperor’s forces to lure her out.

GA: Sollux I Am Unconvinced That This Is Not Some Ploy To Draw Me Out Into The Open   
GA: I Have Been Left Alone For The Most Part By The Emperor Due To My Ability To Hide In The Sunlight And The Solitude Of My Home In The Desert   
GA: And So I Am Unconvinced That This Is Not Simply Another Clever Ruse To Draw Me Into The Darkness   
TA: ii gave you the pa22word, what more do you want?   
TA: okay   
TA: remember when we were all iin the veiil and you were a2kiing me how two open the viiewport, but you couldn’t becau2e your f1 key wa2 mii22iing?   
GA: Yes   
TA: ii took iit 2o that you’d have a rea2on two talk to me, becau2e ii had a 2tupiid wriiggler cru2h on you   
TA: iin retro2pect iit wa2 kiind of 2iilly.   
TA: ii mean you’re a che2t bump fetii2hii2t, and la2t ii checked ii’m kiind of lackiing iin that department.   
GA: Sollux If You Had Wanted To Talk To Me All You Had To Do Was Ask Instead Of Continually Going On About Your Prophecies Of Doom And Death And Destruction   
GA: But My Lack Of Flushed Attraction Towards You Has Nothing To Do With Whether Or Not You Are Have Been Or Will Be In Possession Of Chest Bumps   
GA: I Simply Prefer The Company Of Other Women When It Comes To The Concupiscent Quadrants   
GA: Though I Do Not Have Any Preference When It Comes To Simply Being Friends   
GA: But To Return To More Relevant Matters I Assume That We Are All Going To Traverse The Gate To Earth   
TA: no, ii thiink we 2hould all 2tay here and waiit for emperor orangeblood two kiill u2 all.   
GA: I Believe That Was Sarcasm   
TA: wow, you're really gettiing good at notiiciing that.   
GA: Oh Well Why Thank You Sollux   
TA: ii wa2 beiing 2arca2tiic there.   
GA: Oh Well I Suppose I Have A Long Way To Go Then   
TA: look, ii haven't told kk yet. he'll probably fiigure you're goiing two do 2omethiing dumb liike waiit for u2 all 2o that we can go through at the 2ame tiime   
GA: Why Would I Do That That Seems Ridicuously Impractical And Dangerous   
TA: ii know, ii know. look, ju2t pretend you're goiing two do iit, all riight?   
TA: iit'll giive hiim 2omethiing two yell at.   
GA: I Suppose This Idea Makes Some Amount Of Sense   
TA: take care, kanaya.   
GA: You Too Sollux

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA]

When Sollux's account fades back to an inactive gray, Kanaya just stares at the screen for a moment. Thoughts run through her head, thoughts of what she had always imagined Earth to be like based on what little information Rose had given her. She had told her of flowing blue rivers, of a yellow sun that even the palest human could stand in without destroying their eyes, of a solitary white moon. She told her of her home, in the middle of a green forest with a garden larger than anything Kanaya had ever seen on Alternia. But mostly, she thought about exploring it with Rose. It was enough to give her a tiny bit of hope.

* * *

For whatever reason, her dormitory had decided that the most appropriate way for the incoming freshmen to get to know each other was a dance. And while Rose may be an excellent dancer, her graceful, sweeping movements don’t fit the style of the fast-paced rock music that accompanied the frantic movements of the other girls on the dance floor. So instead she just leans against the wall, occasionally sipping from her red Solo cup (she had brewed her own tea, but even she wouldn’t go so far as to bring a teacup to a dorm party).

Occasionally, one of the girls would break off from the crowd to talk to her, ask her her name, major, the usual. She answers all their questions with what passes for a smile and a polite nod, reciprocates, and then waits for the conversation to derail into uncomfortable silence. And then the girl leaves her, rejoins the faceless formless crowd. As she watches her move, the thought ‘they move so unlike her’ rises in her head. She remembers fighting Jack with Kanaya, watching her leave glowing trails in the air with a grace that was at odds with the rough noise of her chainsaw; even when fighting for her very life, she maintained that grace. And here she is, still upset over a heart that was broken six years ago, when she probably doesn’t even remember that she exists.

She spends the rest of the night trying to mingle with the crowd, but she’s like oil and they’re water. They always push her to the periphery, and she winds up worse off than if she had never tried at all.

* * *

It’s hard to decide what stays and what must be left behind. There are so many dresses, so many bolts of fabric and sewing-stuff for her to take, and not enough space. She settles on the gold of prospit, the lavender-purple and green of the Alternian moons (yes, she is definitely thinking of the moons and not another pairing with the same color scheme), and the white of her home, to keep something to remind her of Alternia. She saves her lunchtop for last; right as she picks it up to put it in her bag, she pauses and sets it back down.

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GA: Karkat   
CG: WHAT’S THE PASSWORD?   
GA: Karkat Has There Ever Been Any Occurence Where This Absurd Password System Has Successfully Detected An Impersonator   
CG: FUCK YOU I’M NOT ANSWERING THAT QUESTION JUST BECAUSE IT’S YOUR PASSWORD.   
CG: SO WHAT COULD POSSIBLY BE SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU DECIDED TO BREAK TROLLIAN SILENCE FOR THIS?   
GA: I Am Still Not Entirely Convinced On The Merits Of Having Us All Go Through One At A Time   
CG: OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE.   
CG: LOOK.   
CG: IF WE ALL WAITED UNTIL WE COULD ALL GO, THEN WE MIGHT ALL GET KILLED.   
CG: YOU AND I HAVE GOT THE BEST ODDS OF MAKING IT THROUGH   
CG: YOU BECAUSE OF THE WHOLE RAINBOW DRINKER SUN-IMMUNITY MEANING THAT ANYBODY THAT TRIES TO GET NEAR YOU WOULD PROBABLY BURST INTO FLAME, AND ME BECAUSE NOBODY WOULD GUESS A TROLL WITH HIDDEN BLOOD WOULD ASSOCIATE WITH ROYALTY.   
CG: BECAUSE LET’S BE HONEST, NOBODY EVER HIDES IT EXCEPT FOR PEOPLE WITH SHITTY RED BLOOD.   
GA: Karkat I Have Told You This Before But Your Blood Is Perfectly Fine   
GA: And From What I Recall Of Human Anatomy Their Blood Is All Red So I Believe You Will Fit Better Than Any Of Us There   
CG: REALLY? BECAUSE I’M PRETTY SURE JOHN TOLD ME SOMETHING ABOUT BLUEBLOODS IN SOME PLACE CALLED ‘ENGLAND’ ONCE.   
GA: Well Then We Will Have To Make Sure To Stay Away From This England Place   
GA: But In The Meantime I Am Confident That Your Blood Is At The Very Least Not Unusual Among Humans   
GA: The Gray Skin And The Horns Are A Different Matter However   
GA: But I Suspect That It Will Not Be As Large Of A Problem As You Seem To Think   
CG: YEAH, BECAUSE THIS WHOLE SGRUB SITUATION HAS BEEN FULL OF TIMES WHEN THINGS WORKED OUT BETTER THAN WE EXPECTED.   
CG: LIKE THE TIME VRISKA CREATED AN OMNIPOTENT DEMON BEAST THAT WAS HELL-BENT ON KILLING US ALL.   
CG: OR WHEN THE EMPRESS WAS ASSASSINATED AND REPLACED WITH A NEW EMPEROR, ALSO HELL-BENT ON KILLING US ALL.   
CG: THAT TOTALLY WORKED OUT BETTER THAN ANYTHING I COULD’VE PLANNED.   
CG: LOOK.   
CG: JUST GET TO THE GATE AND GO THROUGH.   
CG: WE’LL FIGURE OUT WHAT TO DO AFTERWARDS.   
GA: Okay Fine   
GA: Take Care Of Yourself Karkat I Know You Want To See Everybody Through   
GA: But I Would Like To See You On Earth With The Rest Of Us   
CG: I’M NOT LEAVING UNTIL EVERYBODY ELSE HAS GONE THROUGH.   
GA: Fine Then I Suppose I Will Just Have To Save Myself If Only To Get Your Stubborn Think Pan To Decide To Save Yourself   
GA: Goodbye Karkat   
GA: See You Soon   
CG: IF THE THRESHECUTIONERS DON'T SEE ME FIRST.

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]   


* * *

Another Saturday night, another night spent in front of the computer screen. one of Rose’s few friends had invited her to a movie, but she declined, saying she had to study psychology. It wasn’t a lie, technically; it wasn’t her fault if she had interpreted it to mean ‘studying psychology textbooks’ as opposed to ‘studying her own psychology’.

She always spends these late weekend nights alone, and as her fingers dance over the keyboard she tells her sorrows to the one person that could help, and the last person she expects to do so. She uses them to organize her thoughts and clear them, like a digital dream.

TT: I have met tens, dozens, hundreds of girls here, girls of every shape and size and mind.   
TT: I find no joy in their company, no solace in their embrace late at night. No pleasure in the press of their lips to mine.   
TT: None of them are you.   
TT: None of them have your jade-gray complexion, your manner of speech. And none of them know what I -- what we -- went through.   
TT: They would think me crazy if I told them.   
TT: Perhaps I am crazy; I have spent the last six years messaging a Pesterchum account I have never once seen active on the basis of memories that are so obviously against every law of physics known to humanity that they outweigh suspension of disbelief like a circus elephant on a tightrope.   
TT: I believe the Alternian phrase would be ‘trunkbeast on a thin horizontal balancing fiber’, or something similarly opaque.   
TT: Maybe that is why I continue these messages, because deep down some part of me knows they will never be read, that they will languish forever on the Pesterchum servers.   
TT: I can say anything here, because nobody will ever read it.

* * *

The gate stands before her deep within the underground cavern it rests in, twelve blue squares capped with a triangle. The seam where it had been cut in two all those years ago has been mostly repaired, though bits of green energy still leak from the edges, flickering and discharging into the muddy brown ground. She briefly checked the portable communicator she was using instead of her lunchtop; Terezi, Eridan, Vriska, and Aradia had already set their moods to IRRITABLOCKED, their code for leaving for the gate. None of them were anywhere to be seen, and she didn’t particularly feel like waiting around. There’s no telling how long they might take, and if she got on Trollian to check Karkat would chew her out before she could even begin typing.

So she steps up to the door, and takes the electric blue handle in her hand. It swings open without a twist of the knob, revealing nothing but the white of infinity on the other hand, nothing for her eyes to focus on or even to look at; nothing to even tell her that there is an other side there, that she isn’t about to step into an infinite abyss. But she can feel something on the other side, tendrils of space swiring about the open doorway. So she takes a deep breath, closes her eyes, and steps through.


	2. Revelation

Transportalization was always easier on Kanaya than it had been on the others; she’d suspected it had something to do with her status as the Hero of Space. But being catapulted into another universe is an entirely different process from simply translocating a couple hundred feet; in fact, it’s worse, because she’d wrapped herself up so tightly in space that it feels like a thin layer of her skin is being peeled from her body, over and over and over again. It doesn’t hurt, not like normal pain, but it feels _wrong_ , like the feeling of getting the wind knocked out of her but throughout her entire body.

Images of Earth flash before her like a sped-up slide show, cities and countrysides and deserts and tundras and mountains blurring by her and slowly getting larger and larger with each passing second.. But she concentrates on one location in particular, a house in a forest with a waterfall that she’d seen time and time again. The flickering of the images slows as her viewpoint moves, flying over the lush green forest barely illuminated by what she assumes is one of Earth’s moons. Just as she realizes that the view isn’t getting larger; she’s getting closer to it, the viewpoint settles on a ground-level view of the woods, and she’s dumped unceremoniously through.

The shock of crossing from the void between worlds into the humans’ universe hits her like a brick wall, all the layers of space that had been flayed from her in transit finding their way into her as she’s filled with location and distance and once more. She collapses onto all fours as she stumbles out of the portal, and only has a moment to glance behind her and see the green-tinged hole in existence before it shrinks to a point and vanishes.

When she stands up, she notices brown stuff clinging to her hands and to her dress, dimly lit by the silver-gray light coming in through the forest canopy. It leaves muddy streaks as she brushes it off. The white noise of a waterfall catches her ear, and she looks off to her side; she can see a familiar-looking white house, standing at the very edge of the cliff and spitting water over the side in a flat sheet. She’d seen enough of Rose’s house that there’s no mistaking it, even on an unfamiliar planet, and as she hurries along the gray river bridge she considers the fact that bringing this fact up might not be the best move. The polished metal button near the door isn’t labeled, but its function is obvious. As soon as she presses it, she hears a soft chime from the inside, and the click of footsteps on hard floor a moment later. She tries to remember to breathe.

The door opens, and for a second Kanaya expects to be greeted by the Rose who she had left her those years ago. But the woman that greets her is, of course, taller, with broader shoulders and that same pink scarf she remembered seeing all those years ago. And she’s even older than Kanaya would expect; of course, it would be silly to think that troll and human life cycles would have the same phases, but she looked far older than she’d expect Rose to be, even taking into account the time passed since she’d last seen her.

Oh I’m Sorry I Must Have The Wrong Domicile--” She Begins But The Blonde-haired Woman Smiles  
No, no, it’s all right. You would be, ah... Kanaya.  
Yes That Would Be Me  
And then it clicks; when she had watched Rose, she’d often seen an older human with her, preparing meals for her and performing chores around the house and the like. This must be Rose’s lusus. No, that word isn’t right, humans don’t have lusi. What had she called it. Ah.  
And You Are Rose’s Mother  
Yes, that would be me. Please, come inside; I don’t know how you arrived on Earth but I suspect the journey was not pleasant.

The first thing that Kanaya notices when she walks in the door is the shafts of sunlight streaming in through the window, invisible heat waves making swirling smoke-like patterns on the marble floor. There are statues wearing the universal garb of wizards llining the walls, with mouths agape and staves raised (describing such fine instruments of magic as mere ‘staffs’ would be an insult of the highest order), no doubt in the middle of reciting some complicated mystic spell. Elegantly-chiseled stone beards have tips that look like they could take an eye out.

The house is so much different from those of the other trolls she had known, prizing both elegance and utility; even her hive wasn’t as beautiful as this one. The river Kanaya had seen rushing through the house is visible through the occasional glass panel in the floor, swirling and eddying but always rushing forward towards the waterfall. While Kanaya stands admiring the architecture, Mom goes into the kitchen and prepares something.

Feel free to look around, Kanaya. I’ll make some tea for you.

She vaguely remembers tea; it was the human word for plant-infused heated liquid beverages. So in the meantime she browses the bookshelves that line the walls between the wizard statues, running her fingers over the spines. All the titles are unfamiliar to her, of course; they’re so much shorter than Alternian books. She wonders how human book-readers can possibly decide which novels to read given the limited information the titles provide.

Her eyes catch on one book in particular, and she pauses. Surely if this Harper Lee person had written an instruction manual on avian murder, it would not be the sort that a Lalonde would stock. But to her confusion, when she slides it from the shelf and opens it, she finds nothing but prose. She returns it and tries another; surely this is a straightforward novel about the death and funeral of a human named Finnegan.

By the time the tea is ready, she’s almost finished the first page.

I Hope It Would Not Trouble You Too Much If I Were To Inquire As To Rose’s Location   
Oh, she’s off at college--advanced education--in Boston.   
Is Boston Far From Here   
No, no it isn’t. Only a couple hours away.   
I Wasn’t Aware That Human Interplanetary Travel Was So Advanced; Even One Of Our One Of The Alternian Empire’s Meya Class Starship Takes A Day To Travel Between Planets   
... perhaps there is a misunderstanding. Boston is a city on Earth.”   
Oh Yes That Would Make More Sense Than My Previous Understanding   
So may I inquire what brings you to our planet?

Kanaya shifts about in her seat, her yellow-eyed gaze darting down towards the side.

If the topic makes you uncomfortable, then...   
No Its All Right The Circumstances Of My Departure Were Simply   
Not Friendly   
My Friends And I Were Being Hunted By The Emperor And Was Forced To Flee The Planet Entirely   
I am truly sorry to hear that   
Ms Lalonde May I Ask A Question   
Of course.   
How Did You Know Who I Am

The woman across from her pauses to set down her teacup and looks Kanaya in the eyes (her eyes are a faded gray-lavendar, as if they’d seen more than there was room for in them), and Kanaya prepares to take her question back and abjure it.

I remember some of what happened six years ago, though I don’t know if it would be accurate to say that it ‘happened’ at all.   
But I Do Not Recall Any Of Us Ever Meeting Any Of The Humans’ Lus   
I Mean Guardians   
True. But after the game ended and we returned to earth, I could tell that something about Rose was... different. She spent far more time in her room than usual, and I could occasionally hear muffled cries and the clicking of a keyboard.

Kanaya almost drops her teacup; it’s only the composure from a half a lifetime of subterfuge that lets her keep it intact.

I See While I Would Hate To Impose Or In Any Way Imply That My Interest In Your Daughter Is Anything Beyond Platonic   
You Wouldn’t Happen To Know The Contents Of These Messages By Any Chance Would You   
I do not remember specifics; I looked at them once and only once. A mother should respect her child’s privacy, after all. But I do remember that they were all sent to grimAuxiliatrix and addressed to Kanaya, and that they were, well. Touching, to say the least.   
Well It Seems Prudent To Let Me Read Them Then Unless You Suspect That There Is Another Girl Out There With Orange Horns And Green Blood   
Rose took her computer with her when she left. Besides, would you really travel between worlds just to read messages?   
I Never Said That I Would Be Content Simply With Her Words Ms Lalonde I Fully Intend To Visit Her For Myself   
You’ve just arrived on this planet, have no way of concealing your alien nature, no money, no idea where Rose may be, and you’re dead-set on visiting her.   
Of Course I Know That If The Situations Were Reversed If She Were Forced To Visit Alternia For Some Reason Or Another She Would Do Nothing Less Than What I Am Doing And I Am Not Going To Allow Myself To Be Outdone By Anybody Even By A Rose Lalonde Empowered With Hypotheticals

The corners of those painted black lips curl up into the Lalonde equivalent of an outright grin. Kanaya was familiar with the look; she’d seen it enough times during their planning sessions spent trying to take down the game from the inside (though she’d seen it more during their ‘planning’ sessions spent held in each others arms, teaching each other about their worlds and simply _existing_ with each other to recognize it.

Well. What kind of mother would I be if I did not assist my daughter’s... hmm, no, suitor doesn’t work. Secutrix?   
Well   
Uh   
I Was Not Aware That I Had Previously Expressed Any Interest In Your Daughter But I Do Suppose I Would Not Reject This Offer Of Friendship   
I Mean If You Insist I Do Suppose That I Would Appreciate The Favor Very Much    
Don’t worry about it, Kanaya. But I would ask of you one favor in return.   
Of Course Anything

Purple-clad shoulders rise and fall in a sigh. She folds her hands in her lap, neatly-trimmed nails settling into the grooves between the bones in the back of her hand.

My relationship with Rose has never been the most motherly. I raised her as a child, of course, I did everything I could to ensure her proper education and upbringing. But we were never close. Every gesture of kindness I made was returned, but with the very clear message that it was done out of spite and sarcasm.   
None of us were raised normally, Kanaya. None of the four that played Sburb, nor their guardians. We were all created by paradox space to fulfill roles, not born from actual parents to become productive members of human society. It was entirely my fault that she treated my gestures the way she did.   
So You Would Like Me To Mention That You Helped Reunite The Two Of Us In Hopes That It Would Assist Your Reconciliation With Her   
The opposite. I request that you never tell her. You’re a smart girl, otherwise she would not have fallen for you like she did. I’m sure you can come up with another explanation if she asks.”   
But Why   
She would interpret this as yet another passive-aggressive maneuver; she would assume that I told you to tell her, and if you denied that she would assume you told her to do so as well. I do not wish to strain your relationship with her for the sake of my own; I am well aware that that bridge has long been burned.   
In the morning I’ll buy you a train ticket to Boston. But for now, I think you should get some sleep.   
Oh Yes That Would Be Nice If You Would Show Me To Your Guest Recuperacoon That Would Be Much Appreciated   
… I’ll do that, Kanaya.

The rest of the tea session is finished in quiet silence, with only the quiet clinking of china cups on china plates.

For some reason, Kanaya had expected to find a bedroom much like her own; a recuperacoon tucked away in the corner, full of whatever humans use instead of sopor slime. Instead, she sees a wooden palette with some kind of flexible boxy thing laid on top of it, sheets draped across it lengthwise and a pair of lavender fluffy rectangles laid at one of the short ends. The walls are covered in posters of beasts that would look nightmarish even on Alternia and of arcane magical rituals.

Rose had taken most of her things with her to college, but no student can ever pack everything, and Rose’s personality is forceful enough to still be present even long after she’s gone; the room is quite obviously still hers. There are scarves, sweaters, and other bits of lavender-black clothing strewn across the floor. Kanaya leans in to get a closer look at one, and sees that it’s covered in dust. The entire room is covered in dust, even though it looks like it was lived in only yesterday; the chair left askew, the rumpled sheets, everything has that same fine coating of dust that you only get when a room has been fastidiously avoided for years.

As she puts her hand on the mattress and feels it yield beneath her, it almost feels like she’s disturbing some kind of sacred relic, daring to impinge on the Lost Lalondean Recuperation Surface, holder of the Seven Horseshit Mysteries. The cushions at the end of the bed are stitched with thin thread in the shape of one of those horrorterror-inspired childish tentaclebeasts that Rose had always been so much of a fan of.

She puts her head on one of them and looks at the other; her arm finds its way across the surface, as if she was embracing an invisible partner, as if Rose Lalonde in the mysterious city of Boston will feel her.

* * *

The next morning, Kanaya awakes to her first glimpse of the Earth sun. It’s not nearly as bright as Alternia’s, and the rays streaming in through the curtains don’t sing to her like they did back home. Breakfast is a little different than she’s used to:  
I Must Confess The Packaging Of These Nutritional Products Are Slightly Confusing To Me  
On Alternia We View The Sun As A Hostile Entity Not As A Friendly Deliverer Of Small Dried Purple Fruits  
And I Do Not Believe I Have Ever Seen A Bichromatic Hoofbeast Smile Except When It Was Gloating Over Its Most Recent Kill  
but she consumes the product of the mysteriously friendly Earth animals (and Earth star) regardless.

When Kanaya shows up to the train station, she gets her fair share of stares. The makeup she wore could only do so much to hide her naturally gray skin color, and her candy corn-orange horns fight desperately against any attempt to hide them, even the rather ridiculous-looking bonnets Mom had had her try on. But as she had said, if she acted like everything was normal, people wouldn’t treat her differently. So she does her best to pretend that she is a hornless human with soft pink skin and white eyes and red blood. (It’s so bizarre seeing mutant-colored blood everywhere she looks. It’s the exact same shade as Karkat’s; she hopes it might help him come to terms with his own hemophobia.)

As the train starts, the gentle press of the acceleration pushes her back into her seat a little, and she grips the edge nervously. She’s not unused to powered transportation, of course; living in a desert completely by yourself is impractical, so she had to take occasional trips to the Alternian cities for supplies. But compared to troll machinery, it’s so inelegant, with exposed pistons and wheels and other parts, not the sleek hulls of Alternian transport. It makes her think that it was going to fail at any moment, that this train was on the verge of breakdown and would send her to a fiery doom at the first gentle curve. She wonders if she’d still become a rainbow drinker, but puts that thought out of her head. This is perfectly safe Earth machinery, she tells herself, even if it is relatively primitive.

The train eventually gets up to its full speed, and it does not in fact come off the rails and explode into a fireball at the first slight curve, a fact that does wonders for Kanaya’s frayed nerves when combined with the rhythmic click-click-click of the wheels along the joints in the tracks. So she settles back into her seat, looks out the window at the blurred scenery, and daydreams of Rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A half-hour or so after I posted this, one of my friends told me that Google Chrome's voice recognition interpreted 'Kanaya Maryam' as 'Can I Email You'. I think that's kind of appropriate.


	3. Reconciliation

White chalk is dragged across black slate, and a hundred blue pens all slide across cream-white paper in unison, copying down the professor’s notes from the chalkboard. In the eighth row from the front, ninth seat from the left, sits Rose Lalonde, carefully taking notes on déjà vu in dark lavender ink and noting the potential causes (neurological misfires, cross-linking of memories, etc.). The Jungian in her wants to ask the professor about the collective unconscious re-remembering things long forgotten, but she silences it. No use worrying over long-dead theories made by long-dead theorists.

Her teacher finishes her lecture eventually, but holds up a hand to stifle the squeaks of a hundred cushions folding back into their seats. A paper on mental conditions, he announces, will be due at the end of the month, to be elaborated upon further in the handouts by the door. And then he turns back to erase the chalkboard, and the squeaking resumes, accompanied by the thudthudthud of fabric-covered cushions slamming into the seat backs.

Rose closes her spiral notebook, slides it neatly into her black backpack, and stands up. She makes her way down the auditorium inch by inch, (these 101 classes were always so full, especially in an ‘easy major’ like psychology), and stops to pick up the handout. Nothing unusual to catch her eye, just another seven-page paper. Hardly enough to actually write about... the topic catches her eye, and she almost trips over nothing. The paper is on the cause of false memories.

She’d never told anybody other than her mother about the events of Sburb. How could she? It seemed so absurd on the face of it, a story of aliens and meteors and apocalyptic scenarios. And she’d entertained the possibility that it could all be a lie, that her teenage brain could have constructed those thoughts as a means of coping with something else. There was that theory that psychology tended to attract the mentally... unusual, if not outright ill. In any case, it certainly isn’t _healthy_ for her to treat them as real. But this forces the issue on her in a way that not even Dave and his knack for wriggling out from beneath her psychological microscope could escape.

A paper is a paper, though, and she finds it highly unlikely that the school’s disability staff will let her get out of this one without giving her a long-sleeved white coat. She snaps back to the present, where the girl behind her is impatiently trying to lean in towards her to get a copy of the handout, and steps aside and out the door.

* * *

The weight of the books on her back makes Rose ache as she walks down the street. She already had a decent course load, and these extra research books were only making the problem worse. They weren’t even all necessary; most students would probably get by with only one or two. But that wouldn’t be the Lalondean way.

(Her mother would occasionally ask her about her courses, whether her backpack was comfortable, and the like. She didn’t dare to mention any discomfort, though. She knows exactly what’d happen if she did: three days later, a package would arrive in the mail containing something that would be to a backpack what a Model T is to a sports car, something that would treat the word ‘backpack’ like the most grievous of insults. It had already happened once before; the slightest water stain on one of her bedsheets during a parental visit had caused a set of 400 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets, complete with pillowcase, to show up the very next day. She sold them for half what they would’ve been bought for and made up an excuse about how they were ruined when the sprinkler system went off in case of another visit. Her mother would instantly know it to be a lie, of course, but such was their game.)

The cafe is crowded, as usual. She dislikes the homey feel, the familiarity of the barista and the cashier, the way it seems like it could be a cutout of any place in a smaller city. She would usually take the train deep into the heart of Boston and find anonymity and distance in the impersonalization of a Starbucks, but her train card was out of money and she doesn’t particularly feel aloof enough to walk downtown just for the sake

She orders an espresso, takes a seat opposite one of the roadside windows, and hides her face inside a book. Her eyes dance over the pages, taking in story after story of alleged child abuse during the late 80s that would later prove to be completely uncorroborated. One finger nervously taps on the spine as she reads the stories; abduction by aliens and physically impossible places, such as underground chambers beneath buildings that didn’t even have basements, feature prominently. There were many ways these memories would be ‘recalled’; leading questions made by investigators, a desire to please the interviewers, and peer pressure to confirm existing stories.

She recalls how her mother had believed her completely about all the things that had supposedly happened in Sburb, and how happy it had felt her that she had someone to confide in. How glad she was that John and Dave and Jade remembered too and would fill in each other’s memories or correct each other’s mis-remembrances. Her nails curl in and drag across the plastic of the book cover as she realizes that it all fits; the one difference between her and these other children was that her memories were far too absurd to be believed even by a public willing to entertain the notion of a widespread Satanic child abuse cult.

Eventually, she reaches a stopping point in her book. She slips a slim bookmark, Squiddle-decorated with her own Lalondean additions drawn on top in black pen, in between the pages and gently presses the covers together before sliding the book back into her bag. One last sip of her espresso, and she heads back to her room.

* * *

Rose fishes her ID card out of her bag, presses it against the door reader, and goes inside. The desk worker gives her a nod, and tells her that her visitor is here. Odd, she wasn’t expecting anybody; she rarely gets visitors, aside from the occasional student looking for help with their homework. She briefly entertains the notion that one of the few girls she had taken an interest in was coming over for a visit, but she would be surprised if any of them even knew she knew their names. She walks down the hallway and a couple of corners later comes across the absolute last person she’d expected.

Kanaya?

It feels like a dream, like she must be hallucinating, but a voice in the back of her head, the last vestige of her old power, tells her that no, this is absolutely real. This is really happening. And the figure turns to face her with green-yellow eyes and pink-gray skin and those horns, those horns, those _horns_ that could never be replicated in papier-mâché and paint, with a crook that had only grown sharper with age.

Rose steps forward, and Kanaya just smiles and takes her hand in hers. It’s just like all those years ago. She remembers the way that Kanaya had drawn her off from the crowd of humans and trolls there in the Veil, the way Kanaya’s glowing cheeks had flushed green when she confessed her affection for the human. The way they’d flushed even more when Rose admitted her own feelings. They spent a long time there, in their secret places scattered throughout the asteroid whenever they had a moment from planning their survival. And when they held each other for what they suspected would be their last time, it took a lifetime of practice for Rose to hold the tears back, even as she watched emerald after emerald fall down Kanaya’s pale cheek.

Phantasm or not, she’s not letting her get away again. Part of her brain weighs out the probabilities, compares the likelihood of an alien appearing on Earth versus the likelihood that she’s absolutely lost it, and throws out the result without even bothering to figure out how many zeroes it has.

Kanaya starts a “Hello” but before she can get through the entire second syllable, Rose has her arms around the troll girl’s waist and her head pressed into the crook of her shoulder. It smudges the makeup a little, but she doesn’t care; the warm hands on her head and on the small of her back tells her that Kanaya doesn’t particularly care either.

I must confess, I’m rather glad that you proved to be real, if for no other reason than the fact that my dignity would take a critical blow were I to attempt to embrace a hallucination.   
While I Believe That I Am Very Much Not A Hallucination I Think We Should Enter Your Respite Block In Order To Avoid Having Rather Sensitive Conversations In The View Of Your Fellow Classmates

Oh, right. That. She fumbles around in her bag for her keys, unlocks her door, and opens it. And as soon as the two of them are inside and hidden behind the door, one gray hand cradles her head in its slender fingers, the other grips her in the small of her back, and Kanaya kisses her full on the mouth. Fangs and skin press into her lips, and Kanaya presses into her, black and red and green on black and white and lavendar.

Though I Must Confess That I Perhaps Might Have Had An Ulterior Motive For Desiring To Relocate Ourselves To Someplace More Private Than The Hallway   
Shut up and kiss me again, Maryam.

And she does, and Rose kisses her back with just as much passion. The two of them stand just inside the room for a few minutes, getting to know each other again with touches and soft murmurs instead of words. Rose’s fingers embrace Kanaya’s shoulderblades, Kanaya’s hands find her hips, and their lips meet and part again and again. When they finally break apart, Rose crosses the room to sit on her bed and invites Kanaya to sit next to her.

So, are you going to explain everything to me now, or are we going to lock lips like we’re nervous high school freshman beneath the bleachers?   
Well For A While After The Game Everything Was Normal   
But About A Year After The Empress Was Overthrown And The New Emperor Indicated That Our Planet Was To Be Purged   
Sollux Managed To Find The Old Game Portal Which We Assumed Would Lead Us To Earth   
I Traveled Through And Though We Did Not Group Up In Order To Hinder Capture I Suspect The Others Have Gone Through Or Will Do So Already   
Interesting. But how did you find me, specifically?   
Well   
That Is   
I Assumed That You Were In The Vicinity Of My Landing Point On Account Of It Being As Good Of A Place To Start As Any Other   
And I Then Assumed That You Would Be Drawn To An Institution Of Higher Learning   
And so you just naturally knew what specific room I would be in?   
Oh That   
Well I Simply Looked You Up In The School’s Location Indexing Service

The troll smiles, as if she was pleased with herself for something.

Kanaya.   
You’re lying to me, aren’t you?   
Why What Do You Mean I Am Being Nothing But Truthful Here   
Well. For starters, there are dozens of universities in this city alone, though I suppose that you could have searched another first.   
I would also question your ability to land in the same city as me in the first place, though that could also be attributed to a remnant of your powers as the Sylph of Space.   
But the most damning fact of all, the one thing that tells met hat you’re not telling me the entire truth here?   
I requested to be unlisted from the school directory.   
I Know It Was A Most Cunning Plan To Hide Your Location From Me But I Was Able To Sense Your Presence   
As You Said Yourself I Am The Sylph Of Space And A Latent Rainbow Drinker Besides So It Should Come As No Surprise That I Very Much Definitely Have This Ability That I Did Not Just Make Up On The Spot   
You’re as bad of a liar as you always were, Kanaya. Remember that time that you told John that we were Definitely Not Involved In Any Kind Of Flushed Entanglement Such As One That Would Be Found In A Rainbow Drinker Novel?   
I Still Do Not Understand How You Managed To See Through My Flawless Ruse   
But I Made A Promise To Not Disclose The Source Of My Assistance And I Do Intend On Keeping It

There’s only one person that it could possibly be, and Rose’s fists clench up at the mere thought of that matronly figure. Goddamn her.

It was my mother.   
How Did You Determine This Rose   
First, you just confirmed it   
Um   
Well   
I Only Asked How You Determined It I Never Specified That It Was A True Determination   
An empty semantic game, and you know it.   
Second, only she would be passive-aggressive enough to reunite the two of us and then insist that she never receive any of the credit.   
Well I Might As Well Say This Then   
Rose Your Lusus Very Much Cares About You And The Only Reason She Didnt Want Me To Tell You Was To Avoid This Exact Reaction   
She Wanted Us To Be Happy Together And She Believed You Wouldnt Be Happy If You Knew It Was Because Of Her   
And I Can See Now That She Was Right   
For All Your Intelligence   
And Believe Me You Are Very Intelligent   
You Can Be A Remarkably Foolish Girl Sometimes   
I Know Its Hard Being An Adult Of Between Four And A Half And Eight And A Half Sweeps   
Its Hard   
But I Understand   
Please Call Her   
I very much intend to do so.

Rose unzips her purse and pulls out her phone, an understated lavender-case thing. She dials a number that she hasn’t dialed in months but still knows by heart.

Hello, Mother.   
Hello, Rose.  
She’s there, I assume.  
She is, and you sent her.  
Only the best for you, my darling.  
It is rather nice to have proof that I’m not delusional. Although I do doubt the sense in asking her to withhold the source of her assistance given that you had to know I would figure it out eventually.  
Because, Rose, there is nobody who reveals so much as someone who is trying to hide something. I knew you would see her hide who aided her, and quickly divine the truth. You always were an intelligent young girl.  
So your solution to try to repair our relationship was to attempt to hide your assistance from me for the sole purpose of making it obvious? This is how you make amends with me for all these years of pseudo-ironic neglect and indulgence, because you couldn’t even get out of that stupid ironic housewife routine of yours for one day so that you could be completely honest with me?  
I try as hard as I can to remove you from my life, to make you nothing more than an unpleasant memory, and this is how you repay me? By making it so that I can’t even look at the one person I care about more than anything else without thinking of you?

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone, nothing but the soft hiss of line noise telling Rose that the call hasn’t ended. Kanaya rests a hand on Rose’s quivering shoulder with a worried look on her face.

Yes.   
I could blame my creation as a combination of you and Dave, but we both know that even paradox genetics do not determine personality.   
I could blame predestination, but if we were to head down that road then none of us could be blamed for anything.   
In the end the only thing left that I can blame for the way I acted towards you is myself.   
I’m sorry, Rose.   
I do hope that you are happy with Kanaya, even if she does make you think of me.   
Goodbye.

Before Rose can manage another venomous reply, her phone beeps and displays the words ‘Call Ended’. She just stares at those pixels for a while, as if the force of her gaze will jump-start the circuitry into reconnecting her, until Kanaya’s arms embrace her once again. This time, though, they do so as an emotional intimate, not as a lover.

When I Said I Wanted You To Contact Your Lusus That Is Not What I Meant   
I know.   
I Was Hoping That You Could Reconcile With Her   
I know.   
Rose   
Many Of Us Had Similar Relationships With Our Lusi Before The Game Occurred   
In Particular I Recall That Karkats Relationship With His Lusus Was Hostile At The Best Of Times And I Suspect That Vriska Disliked Hers Far More Than She Let On   
But We All Still Mourned Their Loss   
And Though We Were Able To Communicate With Them After They Were Prototyped We Were Never Able To Truly Communicate As They All Perished After The End Of The Game   
Your Lusus However Is Still Alive And She Misses You   
Give Her A Second Chance Rose   
If Not For Her   
Then For Me

Rose thinks of a pink scarf stained red with blood pooled on the floor. She had always wondered what it was like; despite everything, she could never muster up the courage to ask her mother about her death. Had her mother and John’s father fought against Jack, or did they fall instantly like so many others before him? Why did she have to be out in the open, so vulnerable and exposed? Why did she have to die to bleed to fall on the floor lifeless and breathless and with pale still lips that Rose had thought she’d never see again--

Rose opens her eyes and realizes she’s crying and murmuring incoherently beneath her breath When she’d first found her mother’s corpse, she’d suppressed her sorrow, swallowed it and channeled it against Jack. It’s all coming back now; now she’s that same thirteen-year-old girl seeing her mother dead in front of her all over again, and it’s just too much. Kanaya is stroking her, murmuring something vaguely soothing in Alternian in her ear.

She spends a good half-hour like that, curled up and letting her tears leave damp spots on Kanaya’s skirt, until she straightens herself out and looks up at her. Her arm shifts about on the bed, searching, and Kanaya wordlessly presses her phone into her palm.

Hello again, Mother.   
Rose?   
I.   
I apologize for my behavior.   
Not just for earlier, but for my entire childhood.   
I shouldn’t have treated you the way that I did, and I should have recognized your gestures for what they were.   
Earnest, if misguided, attempts at familial affection.   
Rose, if you want to apologize, then all you have to do is this.   
Be happy with Kanaya. Or just be happy.   
It’s all I’ve ever wanted from you.   
I love you, Rose. I always have.   
Thanks.   
I love you too, Mom.

Rose drops the phone in her lap; sadness and anger give way to joy and relief, and she collapses against Kanaya, who catches her in her warm embrace and supports her as the two of them slowly lean down onto the bed. The gray-skinned girl shifts to face her, two white fangs peeking out over her lower lip as the corners of her mouth pull into a smile.

Thank you, Kanaya.   
It Was No Problem At All Rose After All It Is Rather In My Nature To Assist Others In Their Relationships   
Speaking of your nature, are you really going to go out in that pink skin makeup every day?

Her thumb presses against a spot on Kanaya’s jawline and smears some of the thick stuff away to reveal the gray skin beneath.

Well I Suppose That It Will Not Be As Necessary As It Was   
After All If Humans Are Anything Like Trolls They Will Not React To My Presence If Others Treat Me As Normal   
And I Suspect That Much Of My Time Spent In Public Will Be Spent In Your Company   
Oh, Ms. Maryam. How very forward of you.   
But I do agree. Boston is a lovely city, and there is so much I could show you about Boston. About Earth.

Rose sits up, and Kanaya follows her. Kanaya slides off of Rose’s bed, and offers her a hand up.

I Would Very Much Like To Explore Your Planet   
Shall We   
Yes, we shall.

The two of them step out Rose’s door, and into the hall. As planetary explorations go, the hallway of a dormitory at a college university isn’t exactly the most adventurous. But it’s a good start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I can't believe this got as popular as it did. Thank you all for the comments and bookmarks and kudos!


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